CJ McPhee

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Poppies and the Power of Imagination

I wrote this in Germany in 2012 but it could have happened today.  I’m in that space.   — Cj McPhee


This morning, before I began my usual ritual of cracking two eggs, slicing kalamata olives, and shredding through fresh basil and spinach to create the masterpiece breakfast I normally enjoy, I stood in the middle of the kitchen to stare at a painting I completed last year.  Rich in the forefront with orange-red poppies tinted in yellow, swaying in tall silver blue grass, the sky is lit up by a sun already having dropped into the ocean beyond.  I followed the insight to place myself in that vivid scene using my inner vision as a transport.  I let myself imagine the texture of the earth at my feet.   Not knowing much about what kind of soil poppies prefer to grow in, I nonetheless, let the feel at my feet be a mixture of grainy sand and baseline stems, stems lengthening upward dancing in the breeze, playfully tickling my legs.  I took a deep breath and smiled granting the ocean’s ionized air access into my lungs, into my body, allowing it’s reach to penetrate my blood stream and touch my soul.

What is real in the description above?

If you had been standing in the kitchen with me several mornings in a row, observing the obvious in my routine, you could say that the first sentence about my normal breakfast is entirely true.  Had you watched me stare at the painting, you could confirm the reality of that act and it’s probable you’d agree with me regarding the paintings description although no two people see art quite the same.  The third, fourth, and fifth sentences about following the insight to place myself in the poppy scene and imagining the texture at my feet and the tickling on my legs is a little like stepping off the main road.  One could argue that I wasn’t ‘actually’ placing myself in the scene.  I was just imagining what it would be like to experience that environment first hand.  In reality, I was standing in my kitchen, wearing shoes, jeans, and a long sleeve shirt.  The final sentence in which I refer to the ionized ocean air moving into my body, penetrating my blood stream and ultimately touching my soul could be considered an untruth, a blatant imagination, a non-reality.  One could say again that I really was just standing in the kitchen.  There was no beach or ionized air or poppies.

But would you be right?  Do you NEED to be RIGHT?

Is there only one reality, one truth in this situation?

Is one perspective more real than another?

And could you truthfully argue that my soul was untouched?

Who decides what truth is?

And how does truth create your reality and define your experience?

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 12th, 2014 at 1:35 am and is filed under Inspired Writings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.


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